


Five times River asked Gwen to run away with her

by jinxed_wood



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-04
Updated: 2011-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-25 17:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinxed_wood/pseuds/jinxed_wood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen was eleven years old when her school took a day trip to London to visit the National Gallery...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five times River asked Gwen to run away with her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hahns_girl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=hahns_girl).



> Written for the "DW_femslash" ficathon on Livejournal

Gwen was eleven years old when her school took a day trip to London to visit the National Gallery. She stared, mesmerised by the thick swirls of colour that twisted and curled on the canvas; a green-blue sky, a wheatfield aglow with oranges and yellows, and trees that reached upwards in a springy leap; Gwen hadn’t known paintings could look like that. She wanted to touch it, slip her fingers along the grooves in the paint left by his brush.

“A Wheatfield, with Cypresses,” said a voice from right behind her. Gwen jumped slightly, and then scowled, as a girl stepped up beside her, nudging her slightly to the side.

“Do I know you?” she said pointedly, deciding offence was the best defence.

The girl wrinkled her nose, tossing her braids over her shoulder. “I shouldn’t think so,” she said, as she produced a sherbet fountain from her bag. “I’m Mels”

Gwen folded her arms. “That was a rhetorical question.”

“Oooh, big words,” Mel said laconically, as she eyed the painting. “He liked my Mum, you know, took a real shine to her. I think it was a ginger thing.”

Gwen eyed her mistrustfully. Instinct told her she was being teased but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out how. “Don’t you have a family to catch up with?” she said, sticking her chin out abrasively.

The girl smiled coyly. “You like me, really,” she said. “They have another of his paintings in a room down the hall. Wanna come and see?”

She held out her hand, and Gwen stared down at it. The girl was obviously la-la if she thought she’d go anywhere with her...

“Hey, Mels, hurry up! The coach leaves in twenty minutes,” roared a voice, and Gwen turned to see a scowl framed by flaming head of hair.

Mels nudged her shoulder and grinned at her glare. “Opportunity missed,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you next time. Promise.”

And then she was gone, darting down the polished marble floor. A security guard tutted as she skidded around a corner.

Gwen stared at the gap she’d made through the crowd until it closed. “Bonkers,” she muttered to herself. But it didn’t quite banish that moment, that split second, when she'd come _this_ close to taking her hand.

 **~~~*~~*~~~**

  
She’d passed her A Levels, two As and a B. Not perfect, but pretty damned good. Dad was chuffed and she’d got her place at Uni. Tonight she was going to get legless.

It was traditional, after all.

The crowd at _Metros_ was even louder than usual; practically everyone was pissed or stoned, or a combination of both. Gwen already had a buzz going on from the vodka she’d smuggled in and mixed with the red bull she bought from the bar. Both of her friends had already hooked up with someone and had gone to find a corner to snog in. Hopefully, one of them would come back with the location of party. She had no intentions of staggering home until tomorrow.

She closed her eyes and jumped to the music, hands spread out, head tilted up. An arm looped around her waist, and Gwen’s eyes flashed opened.

“Hiya!” said the interloper with a cheeky smile. “Mind if dance with you?” Her hand rested on the curve above Gwen’s bum. Not moving, not _going_ anywhere, but somehow still giving the impression that it would do something very naughty if given even the slightest speck of encouragement.

Gwen froze. She was being picked up by a girl. A gorgeous girl with a London accent . Dark ringlet curls bounced around her face as she smiled, her tongue flicking through her teeth, sliding along her lower lip. Gwen felt a flash of arousal.

“Uh...”

It seemed that was all the invite the girl needed. With a gentle sway, she was pressed up against her, her hand curving lower. “You’ve got gorgeous tits,” the girl said, against her ear, before placing an open mouth kiss on the side of her neck.

“Get off the floor, you fucking lezzies,” Gwen dimly heard, but she was beyond caring because, oh god, that wonderful mouth. Gwen pulled at her curls, and the girl seemed to know immediately what she wanted. Their lips met and they were snogging. Right there in the middle of _Metros_. Gwen’s hands fluttered at her waist, wanting more but not sure how to go about it. The girl pulled her mouth away and Gwen stared into her dark eyes, pupils blown wide with arousal.

“I’m Mels,” she said, sending a ring of familiarity through Gwen’s mind. “Wanna come home with me?”

Caution slipped through the haze of vodka. She didn’t know this girl. She was gorgeous, yeah, but if she had been a bloke, she’d have turned him down automatically.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

She smiled with knowing amusement. “Maybe next time, yeah?” She slipped back into the thronging mass and Gwen felt a pang of disappointment. She hadn’t had to give up _quite_ so easily.

 **~~~*~~*~~~**

Her name was River. She was older and funny, and sexy, and did things with her fingers and mouth that felt almost illegal. She was exactly what Gwen needed after that mess with Owen.

“Oh God,” she gasped out, her voice breaking as River curved her fingers inside her. The orgasm broke over her, sweetened by the rough slide of River’s tongue.

Afterwards, River slowly stroked her, soothing her until she hovered on the edge of sleep. “Say the word, and I’ll take you away from all this,” she whispered into her ear.

Gwen kept her eyes closed, but she knew River wasn’t fooled.

 **~~~*~~*~~~**

It was Anwen’s seventeenth birthday, and Gwen couldn’t quite quell the feeling of foreboding in her bones as she watched her only child tumble out the door with her friends in a fit of giggles and low whispers. Up to no good, no doubt. She remembered herself at that age.

”She’ll be alright, love,” Rhys said, and Gwen leaned into the comforting hand on her shoulder. “Takes after her Mother.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Gwen muttered.

A week later, she still hadn’t some home. A month later, she found River in her garden.

“How the hell did you find me?”

River shrugged a shoulder. “Well, lets face it, it’s not as if you’re trying real hard to stay off the radar nowadays,” she drawled. “Any chance of an invite inside?”

Gwen tensed, unsure about what this unlikely blast from her past wanted.

She smiled sadly. “Relax, sweetie, I’m just a messenger.”

And over a cup of tea, River explained how Anwen had stumbled across the Doctor, and they were now somewhere in the 51st century, and that she’d be home again _real soon_.

Gwen knew she was being fed a line. She tried to tell herself the tense ball in her stomach was worry, pure and simple. It wasn’t envy. It couldn’t be envy. She was too old for that sort of thing.

River watched her across the table. “My offer still stands,” she said.

Temptation lurched inside her, and she took a deep breath and dampened it down. Rhys, she told herself, she couldn’t do that to Rhys. She opened her mouth to say no, but the word stuck in her throat. She shook her head instead.

For a moment, she thought River was going to argue the point, but she just smiled that knowing smile of hers. “I’d better be going,” she said, rising from the table. A flash of light of light and she was gone.

She didn’t see Anwen for another two years.

She didn’t see River for ten.

 **~~~*~~*~~~**

“How long?” River asked softly, as she sat down beside her on the cold beach.

“Four months,” Gwen said. “Cancer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What have you to be sorry about?” Gwen demanded sharply. “You never met him. Rhys was, Rhys was...” She blinked as her eyes blurred. She wasn’t going to cry. She _wasn’t_.

River’s hand fell on hers, warm in the chill breeze. Gwen shivered.

“This time, I’m not taking no for an answer,” she said, and the world went white before coalescing again.

Gwen’s hand brushed against the golden wheat. “Where are we?”

River just smiled at her, tugging her along in her wake. “Come on,” she said. “I have a picnic set up underneath that tree.”

“But..” Gwen gazed around her. There was something so familiar about this. Something so... She shook her head in bemusement. Must be her imagination.

And the sky was a blue-green, the wheatfield a warm glow, and the cypress trees reached upward, strong and proud.

 

 **FINIS**


End file.
